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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25569532">Intro to Flirting with Neurotic Cambridge Boys</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/honorarytenenbaum/pseuds/honorarytenenbaum'>honorarytenenbaum</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>British Actor RPF, British Comedy RPF, Travel Man (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff and Smut, Slow Burn, Travel Man - Freeform, Twin Peaks and Chill, richard ayoade - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:20:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,350</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25569532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/honorarytenenbaum/pseuds/honorarytenenbaum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it possible to flirt with a neurotic comedian/auteur who has sarcastic quips as dry as the Sahara? The crew of “Travel Man” wonders this more often than they should’ve. Little did they know, the answer lies in their wardrobe stylist all along. </p><p>It’s not a singular answer though. In her experience, it is possible if it’s done with these three simple steps.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Richard Ayoade/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. An In Depth Analysis of Doris Troy's "Just One Look"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It’s long overdue, but here it is. This will be a three-chapter story just ‘cause I want to have control over my pace on writing this fanfic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nobody gives a shit on what a wardrobe stylist says.</p><p>If it’s anything about fabrics, suits, threading, and the like, the crowd has your utmost attention. Nobody cares if it’s about the feminist aspect of David Lynch’s “Twin Peaks.” Y/n learned this the hard way while hanging out with the wardrobe and styling crew of “Travel Man.”</p><p>Y/n’s tenure in this eclectic travel show hosted by comedian and filmmaker Richard Ayoade can be measured by her passport stamps. Since joining the crew at series five, she’s been around from Saint Petersburg ‘till Dubrovnik. She reached places she never thought of stepping foot in while surrounded by the most talented yet interesting people (including the host himself).</p><p>She loved her job and her crew to bits. But like what Bill from Quentin Tarantino’s “Kill Bill” said to Beatrix Kiddo—sometimes, they can be real cunts.</p><p>Her opinion only mattered if it’s a weighing on Royal Family gossip or hot take on any shows the dressing room crew was obsessed with at the time. Yes, she loved “Fleabag.” She’s not a monster. But sometimes, she can’t help but go back to her cinephile roots. Too bad no one wanted to hear the ramblings of a film school dropout.</p><p>Well, except for the person that puts the man in “Travel Man.”<br/><br/>“Here, check this out,” y/n leaned closer to Richard with her phone at hand. They both sat at the end of a bed inside a chic St. Joseph's Boutique Hotel suite. As the entire crew waited for his old friend Stephen Merchant to get ready, the host and his stylist found themselves in an in-depth discussion about “Twin Peaks.”</p><p>None of them ever noticed it. But their penchant for Lynch’s one and only cable show had the two acting out of character. Or at least, that’s the case for the people who didn’t know this pair too well.</p><p>“So this fan comic did this amazing theory about the show,” y/n found herself rambling without meeting his gaze. “In the comic, they discussed how ‘Twin Peaks’ can be a commentary on police abolition and the cycles of abuse so powerful that authority figures can’t defeat its evil.” In her mind, she assumed he was focusing on the comic on her phone. The truth was his eyes couldn’t help but study her expression intently. Since working with her five series ago, he knew well enough how she averted her gaze once she’s deep in thought.</p><p>Richard noticed that today felt like a Comme des Garçons day for her. As she went on with her rant, he noticed how she sported a dark blue sailor-collared jacket with matching wide pants and black Oxford creepers. He liked to pretend that he didn’t know a lick about fashion. But spending more and more time with her during shoots, this trait was a bit harder to suppress with her around.</p><p>Y/n styled him with a somehow similar mindset. For this breakfast snippet with Stephen, she styled him wearing an olive green two-piece suit with a crisp white shirt and knitted orange tie to match. The internet dubbed him as an unlikely style icon because of her. But that’s a shared secret the two of them kept on the low.</p><p>Besides, she didn’t mind Richard having all the credit. She saw him as a classic man—everyone should see that too.</p><p>“Uh, what do you think?” she turned her gaze towards him, earnestly waiting for his hot take. Richard never understood the weight of Doris Troy’s “Just One Look.” From his dad’s vinyl records to late-night bus rides at London, he saw the song as a mere pop standard. Perhaps, it's a potential soundtrack in a future film of his.</p><p>But if you ask Richard to break down its structure and lyricism, you’re barking at the wrong tree. That’s what he always thought.</p><p>He didn’t know he’ll find the meaning of Doris Troy’s classic single within her.</p><p>In a desperate attempt to hide his flustered cheeks, he pushed his glasses frames upward. He barely heard her lovely analysis on a television marvel. Don’t get him wrong, he wanted to hear every syllable, every verbal nuance he got accustomed to while spending brief moments with her. But he found himself again in a strange position of awe and unadulterated admiration.</p><p>So instead of giving his personal take on her analysis, he asked to spend more time with her instead.</p><p>“Do.. do you want to re-watch ’The Return’ with me?” he blurted out without thinking. Stunned with his sudden desire for company, she moved back as skepticism washed over her. “Tonight. After the shoot maybe,” he didn’t even word it as a question. It felt more like a demand than a request.</p><p>Even so, who was y/n to turn him down? She was unsure if it was a friendly hang or a date-date. Whatever it was, she wasn’t about to say no.</p><p>A lot of things that people assumed made Richard anxious didn’t at all. The camera doesn’t make him anxious, performing doesn’t make him anxious, and weirdly enough, directing doesn’t make him anxious. What got his stomach tied into knots that morning was the anticipation of her answer. Why did he ask her to keep him company? Out of all the past opportunities that came up, why now? He’s unsure.</p><p>Richard hated situations he couldn’t control the outcome of. So of course, he had an aversion to spontaneity.</p><p>How could y/n bring spontaneity out of him? He didn’t exactly know. If she says yes to him that night, maybe he can find out for himself.</p><p>“Uh.. yeah. Of course. I’d love to!” she strung her sentences with these order of emotions; confusion, acceptance and jubilance. Richard’s mouth fell agape when he got her sweet confirmation. Before he can crack a full smile and say ‘great,’ the assistant director gave him a five-minute head’s up.</p><p>“Hollywood calls,” he jested with his signature dry sarcasm as he got up from the bed. “I’ll see you?” he meekly asked, unsure if she had changed her mind in a span of five seconds. It didn’t hurt to check. Lucky for him, she nodded with the same enthusiasm as earlier.</p><p>“Okay,” he managed to give her a soft smile before the antsy assistant director whisked him away. She watched him go and do his unusual day job not suited for homebodies such as himself. Biting her lower lip, she daydreamed on where the night ahead would take them.</p><p>With one particularly longing sigh, wholesome and filthy possibilities started running amuck within the fold of her brain.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. David Lynch, Twin Peaks and You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Flirting was a language none of them were fluent at. What they were fluent at was cinema.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone, who’s ready for some slow burn and possible smut?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Richard deals with camera work by performing an out of body experience.<br/><br/>It alleviated his nerves and made his anxious mind numb. When he’s in front of the camera, he pretended he wasn’t all there. The Richard in front of the camera is a mere illusion of who he really was. He’s a Russian nest doll of a person. One must go through several layers to understand how his mind works. </p><p>So when Richard pops on someone’s TV screen, it’s just an exaggerated version of him he crafted. Sometimes he even wonders if there’s anyone out there who really knew him. </p><p>He doesn’t even think he knows himself. </p><p>This thought haunted him throughout his “Travel Man” shoot in Dubrovnik. Don’t get him wrong, he was quietly having the time of his life, despite his sheer abhorrence on traveling. He got to kick around with an old friend, see historical sites he only wanted to see in old copies of National Geographic and not spend a single pound on anything. Even a self-proclaimed recluse like him couldn’t say no to that. </p><p>As he kept his Travel Man!Richard suit on during the entire shoot, the core of his matryoshka self started to leak at the seams. He only showed at least 1/8 of who he was to y/n. So far, his real friendly and mild-mannered demeanor didn’t seem to put her off. </p><p>If his mind could just stop saying “what if your entirety puts her off” for five seconds, maybe he can focus on the show he was paid to do. </p><p>He stumbled mid-thought on the Jesuit steps at Dubrovnik. “You need to fix that step, there’s something wrong with it,” he muttered to the tour guide who watched him escape an awful tumble. Stephen didn’t think much of it and just giggled off the sides. </p><p>Whatever side of himself he projected, all sides were incredibly clumsy. He was a multi-layered man who had no agreement with gravity. </p><p>Behind the scenes, y/n noticed that he seemed off ever since their talk that morning. She chewed her bottom lip to stop herself from overthinking. What if he thought he made a mistake? What if this was just a friend thing? She didn’t know if she could cope with any of these thoughts.</p><p>This didn’t stop the two of them from powering through their anxieties in the shoot. But when they heard the phrase “that’s a wrap,” their individual anxieties met an all-time high.</p><p>Richard sat at the edge of his hotel room bed in St. Joseph's Boutique Hotel. His suite looked like if The White Company did room service. As expected, staying in posh hotels doesn’t excite him. The room was a bit too posh for his personal taste. </p><p>But if you’re not the one paying, who really gives a fuck?</p><p>He tapped his foot on the carpeted floor. While his foot acted on his metronome, he anxiously monitored his watch’s arms. His life could be measured through a series of disappointments. As he waited for a knock on his door or a notification from his phone, he released a long sigh, mentally preparing himself for another disappointment.</p><p>His romantic entanglements have always been uneventful. Unlike his peers, he wasn’t exactly known for reeling women in. Women love him though. It’s something about his soft, mild-mannerisms and a life shrouded in mystery that gets them. An interviewer in The Guardian once made this apparent to him. Soon as this subject was opened, he quickly dismissed the notion.</p><p>Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the soft knock landing on his door. This made him jolt from where he was sitting. </p><p>The soft knock was followed with three more. Compared to the first one, the succeeding knocks were more sure of themselves. He slowly walked toward the door. Not wanting to seem eager, he hesitated on opening it for a couple of seconds. </p><p>“Rich?” she called his name with a soft tone. “You in there?” He gripped on the doorknob and slowly opened it. There she was in her monochrome glory. Although her Sherilyn Fenn-esque makeup was gone, she still glowed with her au natural features.</p><p>“Hey,” she greeted him with a soft smile. “Hello,” he said back, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. They stood there unsure on what to do next. Resigning herself to a more assertive role, she pondered out loud: “I think this the time where you let the person in.”</p><p>Feeling his cheeks flush, he immediately opened the door wider to let her in his space. This made her let out a soft chuckle. Great, five minutes in and he was already fucking up. “Sorry,” he closed the door behind them. “They left that out in my programming.”Richard gave her a shy smile as he motioned his hand to help herself. Luckily, his room didn’t give him anything to be embarrassed about. He didn’t like leaving his space in a state of disarray. Plus, the glaringly white suite isn’t too shabby to keep any company. </p><p>“Better than the room they left me with for sure,” she mumbled. Without giving it a second thought, she rushed to his bed and plopped over. She did her most comical Playboy pose and waited for him to come closer. </p><p>Quirking a brow, he approached her with caution. “Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me. Aren't you?” he fell back on his wit to cushion his nerves. </p><p>“Isn’t the quote: ‘Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson?’” she gave him a coy smile. He sat next to her and shook his head. “That’s a misquote,” he pushed the glasses on his nose bridge. “The line is actually, ‘Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me. Aren't you?’” he clarified. </p><p>“Do you reel all the girls with your cold hard cinema facts?” she asked, propping her elbow on the mattress so she could sit up properly. He leaned closer to her level, “That, and my traditionally rugged handsome looks.” She knew he meant that as a joke. But seeing him that close made her heart flutter nonetheless. </p><p>Seeing her cheeks flush rosy pink, his knee jerk reaction was to step back and go back to the matter at hand. “Uhm so…” he muttered while ruffling his curly locks. “So…” </p><p>Flirting was a language none of them were fluent at. What they were fluent at was cinema. </p><p>Without a moment’s notice, they were both sitting at the foot of the bed, watching “Twin Peaks: The Return” like a bunch of film school dropouts. It made Richard’s heart skip to feel her head resting on his shoulder, acting as if it was a normal thing to do. She didn’t overthink her actions. Although, she was hoping it would send him a message of mutual attraction. </p><p>They watched the janitor at The Roadhouse sweep the floor for five minutes straight. At that moment, they were watching a classic Lynch moment together. Interacting with each other was easier when they just thought about this as a casual hang. Although, they were deluding themselves. </p><p>“Would it be dumb of me to ask if you know what this means?” she asked him while trying to suppress a yawn escaping from her mouth. Laying his head on top of hers, he tried to suppress the yawn that was passed onto him. “I’d be surprised if you do know what it means,” he shared the same queries as hers. </p><p>“I asked first,” she rebutted with a light chuckle. “Do me a favor when I get it right?” he found himself asking her in a low tone. For a moment, she pondered on what he might’ve wanted from her. She could’ve said no. But wanting to know him better, she decided to risk it. </p><p>“You’re on,” she accepted without veering away from the screen. Taking in a deep breath, he prepared himself to let out an in depth analysis of this broom scene. “Alright well, I think it says a lot about how some part of Twin Peaks never changed,” he started with his thesis statement. <br/><br/>“Yes, all of them grew up, moved on with their lives, and all of these things,” he rambled on. “But during that phone call where someone inquired about the prostitutes, the seediness and the darkness of this quaint little town is still there.” He noticed she lifted her head from his shoulder to listen to him intently. “It never left.”</p><p>Richard looked over her direction to find her transfixed on him. At that moment, he wasn’t sure his face was projecting the right emotion. He can only hope for the best that he didn’t look like Hannibal ready to pounce on human flesh. </p><p>Y/n studied his features. Knowing him as long as she had, she loved how his self-assurance relied on analyzing everything he was fascinated by, hoping he didn’t bore the one on the receiving end. He was calmer when he imparted knowledge on things he was fascinated by. </p><p>People dismissed Richard as someone nervous and unsure of himself. But underneath the nest dolls forming his personality, that’s not entirely the case. He knew what he can and cannot offer the world. What he lacks never bothered him. Every day was just hoping that the people he encountered didn’t mind it either. </p><p>Y/n didn’t mind it at all. What he already had was endearing enough for her. </p><p>“How… how ‘bout you?” he asked with a soft smile. “What do you reckon it’s about?” The sound of Johnny Santo’s “Sleepwalk” echoed in the rather silent suite. She returned the same smile before gazing back at the episode’s credits. </p><p>“I thought Lynch just loved slow scenes,” she shrugged after saying her not-so-hot take on the episode. This caused Richard to crack a smile as she feigned innocence. “Right, well… you’re not wrong.” </p><p>“Does this mean I won?”<br/>“Well, I think it means we’re both lousy at bets.”<br/>“Promise me not to take you to Vegas?”<br/>“I swear my Criterion collection on it.”</p><p>This realization made the burst out of laughter. It wasn’t shared laughter to mask an awkwardness between colleagues. In fact, it’s laughter shared between people who really enjoy one another. They enjoyed it so much that they didn’t even notice that Hulu started the next episode on screen already.</p><p>After the laughter, the sound of the next episode filled the gaps of their shared silence. Y/n felt as if she was at the end scene of “The Graduate.” This was what they both wanted. Now, she doesn’t know where to go from here at all. She thinks he doesn’t either. </p><p>Maybe a tighter kinship was all there was in the cards tonight. Knowing they’ll start shoot quite early the next day, she used this excuse to check on her phone’s clock. It was getting late and it felt like this was all there was to it. </p><p>“It’s getting late—“<br/>“—Do you want to stay?”</p><p>Richard found themselves on opposite sides of desire. She wanted to leave, while he wanted her to stay. Did she found him boring? Was this a bad move? Should he change his name and leave town? He didn’t quite have all the answers yet. </p><p>The answers came within a soft kiss she planted on his lips. Pulling her closer by her arms, he wrapped it around his torso and held the back her head with his one hand, kissing back with more tenacity compared to her. It was pure bliss filled with longing and surprisingly a lot of tongue. </p><p>It’s been a while since Richard entertained any form of intimacy in his life. Although he was a bit rusty, he still knew what he wanted that night. And he wanted her.</p><p>Slowly pulling away from another, they saw the aftermath of what their kinship blossomed into. It got them sharing flustered cheeks, swollen lips and lust-filled eyes. They found themselves plunging into unchartered waters. </p><p>Richard’s not much of a swimmer. But tonight, he’s more than happy to dive in headfirst. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Anatomy of One Night Stands As Told By a Realist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Richard didn’t want a one night stand. He wanted the risk of every romantic entanglement has; the love, the heartache, the blissful nights, and peaceful mornings. He’ll do it all if it means being with her throughout.<br/> <br/>No one associates the word romantic with him. But he wanted y/n to see him in that light only. He could live in a world where no one sees him a romantic apart from her and her alone. </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's the last chapter y'all. I know I've been holding back on the smut and the filth. Just so you know, the tension is worth it. Or you know, let me know in the comments if it was.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One night stands were never Richard’s forte </p><p>With y/n that night, he knew this might be a possibility. He was never an optimist. Others would frame him as a classic pessimist, but he saw himself as a realist at best. His expectations were always kept low. That way, nothing can disappoint him if life doesn’t go his way. </p><p>But he traded all of that to be a blind optimist for one night.</p><p>Richard didn’t want a one night stand. He wanted the risk of every romantic entanglement has; the love, the heartache, the blissful nights, and peaceful mornings. He’ll do it all if it means being with her throughout.<br/> <br/>No one associates the word romantic with him. But he wanted y/n to see him in that light only. He could live in a world where no one sees him a romantic apart from her and her alone. </p><p>So as soon as y/n’s lips met Richard’s, he made sure she didn’t want to let go. </p><p>They broke off once it got heated between the two of them. Gasping for air, he removed his frames and placed it neatly on his white dress shirt’s breast pocket. “Are you okay with this?” he wanted her full consent before doing anything. </p><p>Without missing a beat, y/n got up from where she was seated and knelt. He didn’t have a clue about what her next move was. Once she parted her knees, buckling them on both sides of his hips, she positioned herself on his lap. </p><p>She laced her arms around his neck. Observing her features, he was transfixed on how her beauty shined more when flustered and wondered why her cheeks natural pinkish shade beats any factory manufactured blush on. She broke his contemplation by giving her consent with a tender kiss. </p><p>Throughout the night, he was anxious that he’ll disappoint her. He hasn’t done anything romantic nor sexual in a while. This disappeared when he figured it was similar to riding a bike after stopping for a while. Once she locked her lips onto his, he knew exactly what to do and what he wanted.</p><p>The tender kiss they shared quickly deepened. Longing lips were replaced with pure hunger, wistful gazes began filling to the brim with lust, and the clothes that hid their growing desire failed to conceal how touch-starved they were. She appeased the latter by grinding her dampen crotch on his hardened member while keeping her lips lock on his. </p><p>People never associated Richard with the word optimistic—but they’ll associate him with patience.</p><p>When he felt her growing desire rub on his, something inside him snapped. He lifted her by her thighs while their tongues continued to battle for dominance. Never did he felt such a need to touch someone, to be with someone. But he found out she can trigger such intense emotions inside him.</p><p>Y/n didn’t know how she made Richard felt so seen. Tonight, maybe she’ll finally find out.</p><p>He tore away from her lips to migrate his lips on her cheek. Slowly, it trailed down to her jawline and then to her nape where he found safety. He didn’t care what their co-workers would say the next day. All he wanted to do was to give themselves proof that this night happened. </p><p>So Richard started sucking on her nape’s skin, enough to leave a mark for them to discover the morning after. She let out a soft moan as the sensation of delight and shock started to hit her. Whimpering from the pain, her mind started reeling with possibilities of what tomorrow will bring.</p><p>What would her colleagues say? Why was she sleeping with her boss? </p><p>But the sensation of pleasure was too unbearable to pass up. In sheer honesty, who can blame her for spending the night with him? There were too many opportunities that they let slide off; accidental hand brushes yearning for one another’s touch, unspoken tension in dressing rooms, unintentionally pressing up against one another during fittings, and many, many more. </p><p>Richard wasn’t the only impatient. Y/n wasn’t passing up the opportunity to know what his lips tasted like, what his cum tasted like on her tongue. </p><p>She hastily started undoing his tie. Tossing it on the floor, she decided to take her sweet time on unbuttoning his dress shirt. What lied underneath never failed to take her by surprise. </p><p>Too bad he never let his torso show on national television, it was truly a sight to behold. He didn’t have a Marvel actor built. But he was choice cut, that’s for sure. </p><p>Now satisfied with the hickey on her nape, he followed suit by unzipping her top. He let it drape on her shoulders as he admired her black laced lingerie. Smirking at the sight of her preparation for the night, he looked straight into her eyes. </p><p>He leaned down on her breasts and snapped the front buckle of her bra. Once it broke free, he started kissing her from her chest down to her breasts, taking his sweet time to nibble on both her nipples. This sent her biting down her lip to suppress any moans that can wake up nearby guests. </p><p>While he enjoyed himself, she started intertwining her hand with his curls. It’s a sign of good faith. She wanted him to know this was what she wanted. Although she’s holding back her verbal affirmations, she made it up to him by affirming him with every touch and every sensation. </p><p>Y/n’s curiosity overcame her. She wanted to know what he wanted, who was in charge, and if she would like the answers to her overwhelming queries. In a daze of pleasure, she tugged his hair just enough to raise his head. His brow quirked in response. <br/> <br/> Richard pursed his lips to hide his underlying smirk. Pulling her closer by her thighs, he began to whisper in her ear. “I regret to inform you this, but you’re not in charge here.” That one sentence made her heart race. Slowly, the heat building up from her chest went up to her cheeks. </p><p>If it’s not yet clear to anyone, a sense of control was essential for him. It applies to all aspects of his life—even under the sheets. </p><p>He dropped her on his suite’s king-size bed. In a haste, she removed her unzipped top and bra as she watched him with a renewed confidence she’d never seen before. </p><p>The enjoyment he experienced while she watched him unbuckle his belt was inexplainable. Once he started unzipping his pants, the excitement building up inside of her physically manifested. Her mouth was agape while she became a bit glassy-eyed.  </p><p>Right there and then, y/n knew in her heart of hearts that she needed to welcome him down on her knees. Richard didn’t stop her from following her innermost desire. As the bulge in his boxers grew bigger, she became as obedient as he wanted her to be and started licking through the cloth. </p><p>His breath started to hitch from his throat. Arching his head, he closed his eyes and let her go to work. She looped his boxers’ garter down on both sides to pull it down at ease. Gently grabbing a fistful of her hair, he guided her as she took him all in her mouth. </p><p>For so long, she fantasized about how his lips felt, what he tasted like. She got her answers and more that night. </p><p>Bobbing y/n’s head by her hair, she took Richard’s six-inch in all of its glory. He was 100 percent in control. Yet, he felt his walls come down. He wanted to let the night unfold wherever direction it needed to go. </p><p>It didn’t take too long to feel himself peaking. Wanting to prolong their engagement, he gently pulled her away by the hair. The mess she made with his pre-cum mixed with her drool was just pure sin. It was uncharted territory for him, but he knew burning desire once he felt it. </p><p>The drool coming out of y/n’s hot mouth became their personal lube. Right after stopping her mid-head, he sat her down on his lap, enjoying the sensation of her dripping cunt bouncing up and down on his dick. If one of them ever tells anyone about this night, no one will believe them. </p><p>None of them were dirty talkers. Apart from their skins slapping against one another echoing from the walls, their collective suppressed moans overlapped it. </p><p>Y/n held on to his curls tight as Richard watched her bounce for him. Preparing for this day, it was a good thing she was on her pills, so he could have her as raw as he wanted. All of his wet dreams never amounted to the sensation reality hit him with. <br/> <br/> He guided her by her waist. In order to control his groans, he desperately dug his nails on her hips, holding on for dear life. </p><p>The rhythm of her hips turned from hard and fast to painfully slow. Gauging how much she could tease him, she leaned on his ear to whisper. “How long have you wanted this?” <br/> <br/> He shut his eyes as he tried to control himself from bursting inside of her. With his eyes fluttering, he maintained his firm grip on her waist. He stopped her movement without a warning and held her by the tip of his cock. <br/>In his lowest, sultriest tone, he gave her a reply. </p><p>“Every morning,” he slowly lowered her down, pumping inside of her. <br/>“Every shoot,” he pumped in her one more time. <br/>“Every—“ he pumped again, “—bloody—,” and again, “—time.”</p><p>Richard gave her the roughest fuck she ever had. Just like that, she gave in to his control with no hesitation. She was lost in a daze of complete bliss as she let him treat her as his personal sex toy. <br/> <br/> She never knew he had it in him, but she was glad to find out that night.</p><p>In a moment’s notice, he got her melting on his cock and fumbling over her words. All that came from her mouth were incoherent sentences, a thread of curses, and moaning, lots and lots of moaning. It all led to the same plea—more, more, more. </p><p>Richard didn't plan to disappoint her that night. So like the gentleman he was, he gave her what she wanted. He ignored the sweat dripping down his brow. Although he was close to peaking, he gave her all he got with every pump and hip thrust. </p><p>None of them could hide their moans and growls from the nearby guests. In all sheer honesty, inhibitions flew right out once they got inside each other. </p><p>It didn’t take y/n too long for the heat in her loins to demand sweet release. Pulling herself closer to him, she let Richard know how close she was. “Sweetie, I think I’m gonna cum,” she meekly admitted. He pressed his free hand against her back. “Let it out. I’m… I’m close.”</p><p>He gave her a sense of security. Under his authority, she abided and flooded her juices on his six-inch. She tried to steady her vision and breathing by leaning on his forehead for support.  </p><p>This didn’t stop Richard from pumping inside of her. Wanting to hear her pleas once more, he pulled his forehead away from hers. He lifted her by the chin with his free finger. Observing her flustered features, the bliss and shame of docility plastered on her face were getting him so close to bursting. </p><p>Being who he was, he gently asked: “Do you want me to cum inside?”<br/> <br/>She bit her lower lip and nodded without meeting his gaze. Abiding her desires, his pace started to slow down. It took him mere seconds to fill her up with his seed. Her already flooding cunt, dripping with her juices, was now mixed with his load.</p><p>The sounds of panting from pure sin flooded the suite. Staying true to his agenda, Richard cradled her head by hand and placed it on his shoulder. He let her rest on him with both of their hearts beating close to one another. </p><p>He snaked his arms around her hips to pull her closer, to have her nearer. He held her tightly as he can with no intention of letting go.</p><p>Even good nights conclude. The ending of theirs came in a form of sunlight rays hitting Richard’s features. Usually, he hated the heartbreaking realization that he was no longer asleep. That particular morning after hit differently.</p><p>When his eyes started to flutter open, the memories from last night slowly but surely came to him. He remained loyal to his ethos of being a realist. Seeing will always be tied to believing for him. So as gently as could, he turned away from his suite’s window to see who was on the other side of the king-size bed he didn’t own.</p><p>A smile crept up on Richard’s face when he saw her lying on his hotel bed’s usually empty space. While he watched his graceful companion in deep slumber, he aided her by parting the hair covering half of her face. What he saw right after made him chuckle to himself. </p><p>Realists like him always needed proof. Although memories from last night were great, seeing the mark he left on her neck made his groggy morning heart flutter. </p>
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